Why it’s the TSA’s fault that there’s syrup on my fingers; OR, following stupid rules is…well...stupid
When we decided to fly to L.A., I made what I thought was a reasonable decision: I didn’t pack my wear-it-every-day pocketknife. It could have gone into my checked baggage, but I didn’t want to run afoul of the L.A. laws, and I probably would have forgotten it was in my pocket when we got to the airport and would have had to hand it to the TSA.
After training myself out of my fear of knives to the point that I carry one everywhere, I missed it. I ’m used to being able to get to that tool any time I need it. But it was OK.
But then, at breakfast at our hotel, I encountered a syrup packet for my waffle. The waffle was just right, golden brown, crispy, the butter was all melty and all it needed was the syrup. Which was in one of those packets that usually have a clipped spot that allows you to tear them right open.
This one didn’t.
It resisted my teeth, my fingernails - I didn’t even try the plastic dinnerware. I was hopelessly, helplessly outclassed by a packet of syrup.
Muttering something awful [IRS audit? Child Welfare?] on the way to my room, I was vaguely aware that I had punctured the packet somewhere, because my hands were starting to get sticky. That led inevitably to syrup on the plastic key card and the door handle, followed frighteningly quickly to syrup on a number of flat spaces [did you know that just a drop or two of syrup is invisible?]. I was after my husband’s fabric shears to cut the dratted thing apart. Those of you who know the difference between fabric shears and scissors will also know the depth of his love for me when he told me I could use them. Tragically, finding them involved moving things [cloth things, paper things…] at different places in the room and eventually, there was syrup everywhere.
Eventually, the packet was opened with a reasonable tool, I had breakfast, we headed out for a hard day of filming. AKA standing.
But a simple task that could have been accomplished in seconds with a simple tool had been made ludicrously difficult because I let the TSA intimidate me.
The moral of this story?
Every fool can make a rule, and every fool will mind it.
Thoreau, I think.
After training myself out of my fear of knives to the point that I carry one everywhere, I missed it. I ’m used to being able to get to that tool any time I need it. But it was OK.
But then, at breakfast at our hotel, I encountered a syrup packet for my waffle. The waffle was just right, golden brown, crispy, the butter was all melty and all it needed was the syrup. Which was in one of those packets that usually have a clipped spot that allows you to tear them right open.
This one didn’t.
It resisted my teeth, my fingernails - I didn’t even try the plastic dinnerware. I was hopelessly, helplessly outclassed by a packet of syrup.
Muttering something awful [IRS audit? Child Welfare?] on the way to my room, I was vaguely aware that I had punctured the packet somewhere, because my hands were starting to get sticky. That led inevitably to syrup on the plastic key card and the door handle, followed frighteningly quickly to syrup on a number of flat spaces [did you know that just a drop or two of syrup is invisible?]. I was after my husband’s fabric shears to cut the dratted thing apart. Those of you who know the difference between fabric shears and scissors will also know the depth of his love for me when he told me I could use them. Tragically, finding them involved moving things [cloth things, paper things…] at different places in the room and eventually, there was syrup everywhere.
Eventually, the packet was opened with a reasonable tool, I had breakfast, we headed out for a hard day of filming. AKA standing.
But a simple task that could have been accomplished in seconds with a simple tool had been made ludicrously difficult because I let the TSA intimidate me.
The moral of this story?
Every fool can make a rule, and every fool will mind it.
Thoreau, I think.
Sadly I have donated a number of good pocket knives to TSA over the years.
They really need to change their rules to be reasonable. Ya I know that's never gonna happen. Sorry about your syrup troubles.
I was just in the Baltimore area and woke up in the hotel room all excited about the in-room coffee maker, knowing that I could have coffee before needing to get dressed! They use these little self-contained metalized bags to hold individual servings of coffee.
I'll skip my story of how the bag was ultimately opened, but I will say that the narrative has many of the same elements of yours. I was surprised that they have made the world safe for us all by making it so that even the tables don't have sharp corners on them.
uh.....
No, wait. That's right. The TSA doesn't even let you bring clippers anymore either !
My only tale is from years ago. I forgot about the size restrictions for the toiletries and had to throw out some good deodorant or lotion or something. A real shame.
But yeah, child-safe scissors will do the trick. If they try to take them, just make an issue out of it and get in the news.
Obama: "Look, we're uh, not trying to confiscate your child-safe scissors. But we do have to take certain measures for uh, security. And if someone was wielding child-safe scissors in a threatening manner, well, TSA acted prudently."
A sad and unfortunately all too familiar story.
Always a pleasure to read your thoughts.
Regards,
O.A.